


The Four Hunters

by Amagifu



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 02:56:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11568858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amagifu/pseuds/Amagifu
Summary: An entry for Tale-Teller's challenge, with the prompt: what if Boromir had not died?





	The Four Hunters

The blare of the horn was what Aragorn navigated towards, as he sped down the hillside of Amon Hen. Through the sparse forest to his left, he caught a flash of golden hair and heard a voice bellowing, and a smirk crossed his face. Legolas and Gimli would likely meet him there, wherever ‘there’ was. The Ranger wouldn’t spare energy into fretting about what awaited him, though hearing Boromir’s horn sounding through the forest spoke of a dire situation indeed.

Ahead, Aragorn began to catch up with stragglers of the enemy. Sword already in hand, he cried out in defiance and engaged those closest to him. An answering war cry from his left, much closer now, and he spared a moment’s glance to find Gimli barging into a knot of orcs, axe swinging. Ahead, one of the enemy bowmen was visible, drawing a wicked-looking bow towards some as yet unseen target. The archer suddenly sprouted arrows from his chest and shoulder, and his own shot was fouled as he toppled over. A flash of long daggers glinting in the pale sunlight, and Aragorn knew that Legolas had joined the fray.

Cutting his way through the enemy forces, who had inexplicably begun to disperse, Aragorn finally found what they had targeted on. Boromir leaned wearily against a nearby tree, heavily favoring one leg, and one black arrow protruded from his shoulder. His features contorted in pain, but the man of Gondor still had his voice.

“Aragorn! They’re gone.”

The Ranger stumbled over to Boromir’s side, reaching out to steady him. “Peace, brother. How badly are you hurt?”

“Never mind me. They’re gone!”

“Aye, I can see the orcs leaving.”

“No, Aragorn.” Legolas called over to him as he retrieved a handful of arrows. “I fear he means the hobbits.”

Boromir hissed at a burst of pain and nodded tightly. “I tried, Aragorn. So many orcs, they cut me off from them, kept my hands too full to help.”

The Ranger stepped away as Gimli approached them, waving him away with one hand while rummaging in a pouch with the other, muttering about healing lore he had gleaned from his uncle. Aragon took the moment to look more closely at their surroundings. The enemy had evaporated from sight, their trail not nearly as clear as he would expect from a pack of soldiers. 

Legolas paused by Gimli’s side to see if his assistance was needed, then walked over to join Aragorn. Together they looked towards the river Anduin. Through the trees and across the water, two small figures scrambled up the far bank, away from an abandoned boat.

“I could easily catch up with them. They face the worst leg of this journey unaided.”

“No, Legolas. The Fellowship is already fractured, but I am loathe to splinter it further. We will stay together. Besides, the Ringbearer has made his choice. It fills me with dread, hobbits venturing off into this wilderness, but it may be for the best if the Ring is beyond our reach.” He shaded his eyes for a better look. “The other two must be well ahead of them.”

Boromir had overheard their conversation, and struggled to get away from Giml’s firm grip. “You cannot abandon them!”

“Frodo will be fine. He has the others to mind him.”

“What?” A moment’s confusion. “No, not Frodo; Merry and Pippin! Those blasted orcs captured them! They were the ones I couldn’t protect.” He slumped back and murmured, “Frodo had already fled with Sam.”

The others started at that bit of news, epithets in various languages flung across the clearing.

“Calm yourself, lad, and let me work,” Gimli muttered. But the dwarf glanced up at his companions. “We can’t let this stand. Those two, in the hands of that lot? They won’t last the day.”

Aragorn nodded as he knelt down near Boromir, Legolas watching them and their surroundings. “You echo my own gut fear, Gimli, though they may be more resilient and resourceful than we give them credit for, if Frodo is any indication.” He then gave Boromir a long look, which the captain at first flinched from but then slowly met with his own gaze. “I wouldn’t ask this of you, not in your current state, but we may need to defy the sun and moon if we have any hope of catching up with Merry and Pippin. Can you walk?”

“I will crawl after you if I must.”

Gimli snorted at that as he finished binding Boromir’s shoulder. “He is as mended as I can make him here, and he shows the sort of stubbornness I know so well from home. I say he can run, though his lack of stamina might cause an issue.”

“You could carry him, then, master Dwarf.”

“Aye, likely, and then I could hand him over to you, master Elf, and see how well your stamina lasts.”

“I am not baggage!”

Despite the situation, Aragorn chuckled as he clasped Boromir’s forearm. “Only to say that you will not be left behind, my friend.” As Gimli stood up and walked past Legolas to sift through the abandoned gear, the Ranger whispered, “Though you and I need to speak alone, and soon. There is a tale that needs telling.”

Boromir’s eyes betrayed the dismay he felt, knowing that Aragorn had guessed what had caused Frodo’s flight, but he shrugged in agreement. “Let us get moving, and I will tell you.”

Aragorn nodded and carefully helped Boromir to his feet. As the captain took a few tentative steps to test the bindings on his leg, Gimli and Legolas joined them. Gimli kept one hand out in case Boromir needed steadying, and Legolas readjusted his gear sack as he watched Aragorn. “Should we rely on naught but our wits on this trip, then?”

“Aye. Leave behind all you can, as we will need to move as quickly as possible.” Shouldering only a small pack from their provisions, he turned to face his companions, a grim smile on his face. “Right; let’s hunt some orc.”


End file.
